A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Thor's Hammer
by rachelthenerdfighter
Summary: While Phil and Clint are on their way to New Mexico to find Thor's hammer, Clint has a bad night's sleep. Phil's not so bad at helping him feel better though. (Based off a text meme between myself and carneywithabow (on tumblr), from which we created the headcanon that whenever Clint has a nightmare, he and Phil go on a donut run.) Not pre-slash, but feel free to see it that way.


The first time it happens is when the two are on their way to New Mexico.

The drive is long. Painfully long. It has Clint complaining for most of the ride, even though Phil tries to patiently tell him that they're on duty even though they're the only ones in the car so would he _please_ show some level of maturity? Clint just responds by kicking his feet up on the dashboard.

"Stop that, if we get in a crash both of your legs will be broken."

"Nah."

And so it goes.

They grab a bite to eat at a drive-through and Phil makes a comment about Clint needing a Happy Meal based on how he was acting. This earns him a sharp jab in the shoulder coupled with a laugh and a threat that they both know isn't actually a threat. Phil laughs too and counters with one of his own in that passive-aggressive nature everyone knows so well.

All in all, they have a pretty good time for that leg of the journey.

Clint even convinces Phil to play with the little toy from his meal.

They check into a hotel and climb into their beds. Clint falls asleep almost immediately, but Phil stays awake for a little while reading a book before switching off the light and drifting off.

Maybe Phil is just a naturally light sleeper. Maybe he just wasn't asleep long enough. But whatever the case may be, he's up and alert as ever when he hears Clint thrashing in the bed next to him.

For a moment he just stares in shock at his friend. He's twisting, getting more tangled in the sheets by the second, limbs flailing, fingers fisting the linen. The look on his face is a pained one; he has a slight shine of sweat on his forehead and neck, and his teeth are tightly clenched.

Phil immediately snaps himself out of it and scrambles out of his own bed to kneel at Clint's side. "Barton," he hisses, gently shaking Clint's shoulder. "Barto- Clint. Clint wake up." He shakes a bit more firmly and Clint's eyes snap open. He takes in large gulps of air and slowly relaxes his muscles.

"Sorry Phi- sir. Bad dream."

Phil shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. Just go back to sleep. It'll be fine." He returns to his own bed and starts to drift off again, until he hears a shifting sound in the other. His eyes snap open and he glances over at Clint.

Instead of falling asleep, the archer is sitting up, legs swung over the side of the bed, staring at his lap hands gripping the sheets. Phil suppresses a sigh of pity (_like he wants your pity_) and sits up facing him.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

Clint shakes his head slowly.

"Are you sure?"

Clint hesitates, and nods.

"Okay." Phil nods, stands up and stretches, and walks over to his duffel bag, picking out the suit he brought for the next day's drive.

This gains Clint's curiosity, and as he watches Phil move to the bathroom to change, he can't help but ask "Sir, what are you…?"

"You don't want to sleep. I don't want to leave you feeling like that. So we're getting an early start. Now go get dressed." He shuts the door, and it's clear that he won't take no for an answer.

And so Clint gets dressed and they head out the door. Phil still pays for their troubles, despite being there for a few hours at most. And they're back in the car once again.

This time it's quiet. Phil desperately wants to ask Clint about the dream, maybe he could help somehow- but if Clint didn't want to talk about it, he didn't have to. He was entitled to his privacy, and if he wanted to open up, he would.

Clint finally starts to doze.

And so it goes.

The Acura, as all vehicles do, eventually starts to run low on gas. Phil pulls into the next station and hooks up the car. "I'll be right back," he assures Clint, who nods absently from his nap.

Maybe a snack would cheer him up?

But of course he isn't right back. How can you be right back when two idiots are trying to rob the cash register? It almost made Phil laugh at how they assumed they were threatening because they had rifles. But the goons are quickly knocked to the floor, the girl is given the credit (and a lot more money than two packs of mini donuts are worth), and he leaves with what he came for. No need to cause a scene. Just doing what had to be done.

He unhooks the car from the gas pump, swipes a credit card, and slides back into the driver's seat. Clint wakes up again as he's driving off.

"…What took ya so long?" he asks, stretching to wake himself up again.

"I couldn't decide," Phil says simply, offering him the two packages. "Which do you want? Or you can take both."

Clint chooses the powdered donuts and leaves Phil with the chocolate. And Clint is looking much more at-ease than he was before.

They drive, and slowly the Clint from yesterday afternoon resurfaces. Soon they're laughing and Clint is being ridiculous and Phil is chiding him repeatedly.

Until Clint suddenly says "Hey Phil… thanks. You helped. A lot."

Phil nods. "It was no trouble. What're friends for?"

* * *

From then on, if Phil gets a text that says "You. Me. Donut run. Now." in the middle of the night, he knows just what it means. And he wastes no time in getting out of bed.


End file.
